


Vintage Photos

by long_l3gs



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: DNF, DreamSMP - Freeform, M/M, Photography, mlm, myct
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 14:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/long_l3gs/pseuds/long_l3gs
Summary: One of George's close family member, which live in a completely live in another county, is having a wedding. Asking him to do the honours of taking photos. Without a doubt he accepts this offer.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Small Talk

People always said photography is a hobby, not a real profession. Looking through the scenery, or a person, with a simple lenses. How was it just a hobby? Yes, lots of people take it up as one, but shall never use it as a job.

Instagram, Pinterest, all other sorts of socials had talented photographers, tons of businesses based there grew, some didn't. To simply believe that a small person with a small lease can create a whole base, just to photography is magical. 

To weddings, to models, to flowers, it was all different, but unique. You could say every photographer had an 'aesthetic' or a 'type', some just do scenery, some do modelling, some do advertising, it all varies from photographer to photographer.

The sounds of cars filled up the small village. 6pm. Rush Hour. How great. Everyone leaving work or starting a new shift, the daily. The village wasn't even that large, but when it hit 6pm it always came to life. People passed through it to go to work, or just to go to the larger cities and towns which surrounded the borders of the village. 

There was an apartment complex near the small village. It stood fairly tall, but it was small. Each apartment was messy, mostly students lived there, a cheap place to rent out. 

The top floor was by far the cleanest, why? No students lived up there, just a photographer. The apartment itself was small, one bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, simple. 

Different photos flooded the walls, flower fields, sunsets, waterfalls, falling leaves, thunderstorms, everything was there. A wall covered with Polaroids was also there. Different types of cameras were spread across the apartment. 

Vintage blue walls stood out, with a paper world map, pins stuck deep into the skin, indicating places to visit. The apartment was silent, peaceful. 

Sunset colours filtered through the windows, setting the perfect tones. Sounds of rattling keys was heard, the heavy door swinging open, revealing an average height man, with a bag over his shoulder. 

Swinging that bag down, he closed the door quickly. Kicking off his shoes, he made sure the door was locked before wondering off to his bedroom. 

It use to be full of living plants, now they are all droopy and dead. Clothes scattered everywhere, it was the opposite of the hallway outside, messy and unorganised. 

Why was his room like that?

Friends. They all dropped like flies. Ever since they all left university, they all abandoned him for no reason, no explanation. All they needed him for was nothing. 

He slid down his door, back up tight against it. Burying his head deep into his hands. Trying so hard to fight back his tears. 

Stress from the part time job slowly crept up, loosing every single friend was hard. Even living was hard. Nothing was worth to him anymore...  
but he knew that was a lie, a single camera kept that spark in his life. Why was it so special to him? How could a simple camera hold so much power to a single person? 

It was a gift from a close friend, years ago, who sadly had passed. 

Could this be the reason why his friends left him? Was the close friends death his fault?

The close friend bought him that camera to express his emotions through photography, thinking this was the easiest thing to do, instead of showing them why not portray them in a simple but meaningful photo? 

Sitting in the same position for a while longer, he decided to move, check the time, maybe see what food was left in the cupboards. 

Raising off the floor slowly, he checked the time, 6:28pm. It would be a good time to go down to the park, the darkness should be out by the time he got there... right? 

Picking up his phone and a deep blue hoodie, he walked out of his room. Scavenging the cupboards for any food, which there was none. Either he could get a takeaway or just buy a simple meal from a local shop. 

Walking back to get his camera, he came across a photo of his ‘friends’, not knowing what he could do with it, he put it in a box dedicated to photos to bleach to make them into snippets of art. 

Grabbing ahold of the camera, he put it into its case to put it into a backpack. Picking up his house keys and a bit of extra change to buy dinner, he slid his trainers on. 

Pulling his hood up while exiting the complex, he started to walk to the village, which was about 5-10 minutes away. 

Watching the streetlights turn on, one by one, amused him. The sun was almost gone and the moon was almost out. 

Listening to the sounds of crickets, put him to peace. Stopping halfway to admire the sounds, it was a nice late autumn night to go for a walk. 

Unzipping his bag and undoing the case to his camera, he stumbled to a rose bush, the petals slowly decaying. Going into touch the rose to give it a better position for a photo, he pricked his thumb on a thorn, watching the crimson blood run down his thumb somewhat shocked the young man.

Thinking having a bloody hand would be good for a photo, he held onto a rose, watching droplets of blood leave his skin, he let them run down a bit, until he took a few shots of him holding the weeping rose with blood dripping over and down his slim fingers. 

Realising how much damage the thorns have done, he tried to search though his backpack for anything to clean the wounds, they may have been small but he didn’t want an infection. 

Coming across a simple cloth, it seemed old but it didn’t matter, as long as it stoped the bleeding it was good. 

Crossing the cloth over his hands, he studied the blood staining it. Placing his camera away he walked to the centre of the village. 

An old man was struggling to close his flower shop. Going over to help the man, he saw a shop which does food. Thinking it would be better to help the old man first.

“Do you need any help sir?” His British accent rung through the older mans ears. 

“Oh please!” 

Pulling down the shutters, and carrying a few flower pots in, he inhaled the fresh scent of flowers. 

“Is there anything you would like in return for helping me?” Questioned the older man.

Pulling down his hood he searched around. 

Finding a small plant pot with a small succulent in it, he picked it up carefully. 

“How much does this cost?”

“Please, please! Don’t worry it’s your pay for helping me close the shop!”

Smiling back at the old man he nodded and said his thank you and bid his goodbyes.

Wandering down to the local store he seen a group of people he use to know, they weren’t friends, just partners for projects you could say. 

“Hey George, haven’t seen ya since... erm ya know uni!” Slurred one of them across the street.

Ignoring them he walked off to get a simple meal. Paying for a pot noodle he walked back to his small apartment. 

Stirring up the pot noodle, he searched to see is any new commissions have came through, since he worked part time in a small cafe near the outskirts of the village, he didn’t really have time to do his other job, which could be called full time, photography. Sometimes he did edit others photos, but it was mostly photography. 

Holding a fork in his mouth, the pot noodle in his left and typing his laptop password in quickly with his right hand, he decided to finish off an edit, which was due in two days. 

Clicking different tools to edit this photo, changing the tones, lighting, and seeing for any flaws, he ate into his noodles. 

Hours later of editing a few other photos for this person, he decided to go to bed. Not knowing what tomorrow could lead him to do.


	2. Sun Rays

Pastel colours of painted the skies above the apartment complex. The light filtering through the blinds, leaving stripes on the sheets. 

Sounds of cars started to go, students leaving to head to class, or just people exiting to go do a days work. The whole complex was silent, drop a pin and you could hear it drop. 

Ruffling could be heard coming from George’s bedroom. 9.17am. Great. Sleeping in late could have pros and cons. Getting extra sleep, or being late for something.

As he was sitting upright, he ruffled his medium length locks, while trying to think what day it was. Pulling the grey shirt that was sticking to his chest to cool off, he finally opened his eyes fully, adjusting to the light changes. Removing the rheum from his eyes, George picked up his phone. Noticing how it was past the time since he was suppose to get up at, he let out a long sigh, completely forgetting how he didn’t have to travel down to his part time job today. 

Pulling the rest of the blankets off him, he swung his feet over the side of the bed, letting them dangle there for a while, still not use to the light change. A small yawn escaped his lips, still obvious how tired the man was, he finally stood up, cracking his back in several places.

Shuffling his way throughout the mess of his bedroom, and throughout the shortened hallway, he entered the small kitchen. 

Filling up a glass of water to make his mouth less dry, he tuned the radio to see if any good songs were on, and to check up on the news. Cranking up the blinds he leaned against the windowsill and sipping at his water, he peered out the window, looking upon roads and fields. 

Waiting carefully for an email, or just a plain notification to come through, he started to make a small portion of pancakes. Scrolling through past conversations about his work, he stood there waiting for the pancakes to cook. 

A quickly reply came through, thanking him for the edited photos he done prior the night before. Choosing each word carefully to reply with, trying to look professional, he typed up his reply. 

Throwing his phone down onto the countertop, he got a clean plate out, serving his breakfast onto it. Setting the plate down, he walked back to his room to get his laptop to start a new days work. 

Logging on he decided to edit a few photos for a wedding album. Loading each photo up, he took a fairly large bite out of his pancakes. 

Making each phot black and white, he adjusted the size and cropped it down, making sure it fitted correctly and looked well for the album. 

Dragging his clicker over the photos, he switched the light source and make the small fairy lights behind the newly wedded couple more vibrant. 

Finishing off one photo, he went off to clean up the dishes, and after watered his new succulent, which now lived on a shelf above the sink. 

Heading back over to his workspace, he tilted the blinds, trying his best to stop the sunlight travelling through. 

Glancing over to the clock, he saved his progress so far. Closing his laptop over, he wondered back to his messy room, making a mind note to clean his room and organise it, thinking it could make his mental health better. 

Placing the laptop back on its desk, George walked off to his wardrobe, searching for clean clothes to wear. Pulling out a pair of old ripped jeans and an adidas top, he also pulled out a black hoodie, just to run down a few flights of stairs just to collect any mail. 

Quickly kicking on a pair of sliders, he started his walk to collect his morning mail. Enjoying the silence of the complex, he finally reached his destination. 

Looking for his apartment number, he pulled out his keys to open up the box. Finding two letters, probably bills, he locked the box back up, heading back up to his apartment. 

Entering his bedroom, he chucked down the letters, deciding to open the larger one first.

Reading through it, he figured out it was his electrical bill, he pulled out his calendar on his phone and jotted down when it was due.

Picking up the other letter, he studied it. It looked more fancier than the other letter. 

Unfolding it, he read the gold font which stood out. ‘Wedding Invitation’. Reading throughout each segment of the letter, he smiled softly.

One of his closest cousins, which lived about an 18 hour flight away, had asked him to take photos of them after their wedding. Explaining how they will pay for the flights, stay and a suit incase he doesn’t own one. Everything was free, all he needed to do was show up and do photos while enjoy the wedding, which took place in three weeks.

Closing the letter over, he thought it would be a good idea to contact his beloved cousin later, probably cause they were sleeping.

Sitting down on his bed, he started to plan out different scenarios of the wedding, how his cousin would look, how the photos would turn out, and how his suit would look. He wanted to be presentable of course, all of his family would be there, so he should look smart and professional, even for his small company.

Going online to see if there was any suits for sale, he got a few minor notifications, probably trying to get him to update his Instagram page, not wanting to break the regular uploading pattern, he searched for a new photo to upload instead of a suit. 

Laying fully back onto the bed, he stared out his window, the Sun-rays completely blinding him, while trying to think it it would be a good idea to even go to the wedding. 

Not knowing if he should even show up. George hasn’t really contacted his family in ages, the only person who he did contact was his dad and cousin. Would it even be a smart idea to just show up knowing you haven’t talked to most of your family in years?


End file.
